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ERIN
Four weeks later…
“Good news or bad news first?” Henry asked, pressing a cup of coffee into my hand at dawn.
I took a quick sip and shut my eyes. Whatever the bad news was, I refused to let it faze me. I’d survived a scheming warlock, a jealous vampire, and two killer storms. Both Desert Skies balloons were repaired and back in operation, and I was cleared to pilot anytime — the job of my dreams in one of the most beautiful corners of the country.
Far more importantly, I had Nash. Partner, friend, colleague, lover.
Mate,my dragon side murmured happily.
So, as long as Henry’s bad news didn’t involve marauding demons or my mother popping in for another surprise visit — God, please no — I could cope.
“Good news first,” I murmured, sipping my coffee.
Henry motioned at the huddle of eager guests waiting for lift-off.
“All the spots in the balloon are sold out today, tomorrow, and the day after. Wednesday would be fully booked too, but we’re saving a spot for our aviatrix-in-training.” He smacked me on the shoulder. “Brilliant idea, by the way. The press coveragehas been great advertising — and even without that, it still would be worthwhile.”
I tapped my coffee cup against his in a toast, genuinely proud.
“Glad to hear it.”
I’d spent most of the past year desperately trying to scrape together flight hours — a hurdle many prospective female pilots faced. But it was only one recent morning that I’d had a brainwave for a way to address the problem on a bigger scale. Henry had been skeptical at first, but our two-week trial period had proven such a success, he’d committed to it for an entire year — and made national news in the process.
Once a week, Desert Skies saved a spot for a local girl or woman to fly with us. Some were disadvantaged kids recommended by counselors I’d contacted in the local high school. Others were adults, young to “old,” who’d nearly given up on childhood dreams because ballooning was too expensive or too difficult to get into.
The first four months of our aviatrix-in-training program were already booked solid, and spots in the following months were filling quickly. It was such a success that balloon companies across the country were following our example.
I was tickled pink, as was Henry. Would some of those women go on to become balloon pilots? I hoped so, but that didn’t really matter. The point was, they had the opportunity.
“So, what’s the bad news?” I asked.
Henry sighed. “John won’t be coming in this week, so we’re one man short on the ground crew.”
John was competent and easy to get along with, so that was a pity, but not an insurmountable problem. With Nash leading the ground crew, together with the ever-reliable Chico, we could get by.
Plus, being a man short didn’t affect my chance to fly. Madden had left the company abruptly, citing “issues.” Nothing to do with his botched handling of the bachelor party storm, he’d insisted.
Yeah, right.
Since then, I’d been Desert Skies’s permanent number two pilot, after Henry. So, not much ground crew duty for me, unless I chose it.
The irony was, I didn’t mind any more. As a dragon shifter, I could fly any time I wanted. In fact, most nights, I did.
Just last night, Nash and I had soared over Bear Mountain, meandered with the bends of Oak Creek, and glided silently over downtown Sedona. We’d headed home tired yet satisfied and fallen asleep after making slow, sweet love.
I took a deep breath to remind myself I wasn’t dreaming. Life really was that good.
But, oops. Back to the ground crew problem.
I glanced over at Ingo, who stood a little apart from the other guests. Maybe he could help?
A moment later, I dropped the idea. That wouldn’t really be fair. Besides, he was here on official business — though incognito, so to speak.
That was another silver lining to our whole ordeal. Captain Edwards of the ADMSA had let Nash off lightly in the debrief after the altercation with Harlon. In fact, Edwards had offered Nash a new position the agency was establishing in Sedona.
Thanks, but I like my new jobs,Nash had said.Ballooning and ranching.
